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Paul Marchant walked back to his room after hearing the news about Thomas Le Clair. It was too bad, really. The man had been a great reservoir of knowledge, respected by all in the metaphysical community, even his family’s enemies. The plane had gone down in the Indian Ocean. Now what had Thomas been doing in the Far East? He fumbled for his keys, opened the door, and reached for the light switch.
“About time.”
Marchant jumped back, smashing into the edge of the door. Karl Mueller sat in the dark, cool and calm.
“Jesus, you scared me to death.”
Mueller smirked. “Get your things. We’ve got a job to do.”
“For God’s sake, wasn’t last night enough?”
Mueller stood up and barked, “Get your things.”
Marchant fought to control his anger. “This is unwise. Intensive psychic work takes a good deal of energy. You have to rebuild that before trying again.”
“I have my orders.”
He took a breath to explain, but Mueller interrupted him. “Take it up with the boss. Follow me outside in five minutes. I’ll be two blocks down the street.”
“Sieg Heil,” Marchant muttered.
“Excuse me?” Mueller stuck his face into Marchant’s.
“I’ll be there,” Marchant said in a monotone.
“Yes, you will.” Mueller turned on his boot heel and slammed the door behind him.
Soon Marchant was bouncing around in the back of a black jeep, his arms folded across his stomach. He rode in silence, trying to imagine what Spender had planned. His last words had been ominous, but if nothing had changed, this was a waste of precious time and energy. After twenty minutes, the jeep pulled behind the security office on the Sphinx side of the plateau. Mueller brandished the blindfold.
“Is that necessary at this point?” he asked.
Without an answer, Mueller wrapped the blindfold around Marchant’s eyes and the jeep sped off, knocking Marchant back against the seat. He rode in darkness, seething at the way this moron dared to treat the holder of the Orion crystal. When he did open the Hall, he’d pay them back. He could play their game for just one more night.
The jeep stopped with a screech of brakes. Mueller grabbed Marchant’s arm and pulled him out of the jeep. Once out, Mueller gave him a shove, and Marchant stumbled, falling to his knees.
“Get up.” Mueller pulled him to his feet, grumbling, but guiding him more carefully down the stairs. Just inside the underground temple, he jerked off the blindfold. Marchant looked over the lake at the massive pillars in the back.
Yes, he thought, I’ll tie you between those and have you flogged. He walked to the tunnel to the inner temple and bent low. On the other side, he paused, asking permission of Anubis.
Mueller pushed him. “Let’s go.”
This man needs to die, he sent to the noble jackal.
Anubis made no comment.
Marchant took two steps toward the blue curtain and stopped dead in his tracks. Standing in front of the curtain, hands tied behind her back, was Maria Lol Ha, her mouth taped closed. A chill of fear crept through him. With her, Spender just might succeed.
“Mr. Marchant.” Mr. Spender stood up, wiping the sand from his immaculate blue suit.
Marchant felt a surge of rage at this urbane, self-satisfied amateur mystic. He’d devise something truly torturous for this one.
“As I said, a live sample.” He pointed to Maria as if she were an exotic breed of cat, then he brandished Michael’s crystal. “I hope you’ve taken our little chat to heart. Shall we proceed?”
“This is not wise. We should have waited a day before making another attempt. This type of work requires a great deal of energy—”
“Enough,” Spender’s voice penetrated to the core.
Marchant bit back his retort and turned his attention to Maria. He’d scanned her before. She was powerful. This time they were going to get in, he was certain. What was he going to do? With numb fingers, he took his crystal from around his neck and positioned it in his hand.
Maria’s eyes widened.
Spender nodded and Mueller ripped the tape off Maria’s mouth, taking a piece of lip with it.
“No, you mustn’t do this.” A trickle of blood fell on her chin. “The timing is not right. Without the alignment, the stargate might misfire. We may destroy it.”
“What is she talking about?” Spender looked at Marchant. “Stargate?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” he said.
Spender looked surprised by this idea. He turned. “Well—what is your name?
“My name is not important, but the success of this mission is.”
“What exactly is your mission?”
Maria studied him, her body trembling, but her eyes remote and calm.
Spender took a step toward her. “Answer me.”
She squared her shoulders. “To bring the Earth into the Fifth Age.”
“The Fifth Age . . .” Spender looked at her with contempt. “What kind of New Age nonsense is this?”
“New Age?” Marchant asked. “She’s Quiche Maya.”
Spender waved away this objection. “We’re within three days of the alignment. The influence of any astrological configuration can be felt a full three days before and three days after the exact alignment. It’s time to open the Hall of Records.” He looked at Mueller. “Untie her hands.”
Mueller cut the cord with his knife. Maria flinched, but didn’t make a sound.
Spender turned and held Michael’s crystal out to the blue curtain.
Maria caught Marchant’s attention, then glanced up quickly at the ceiling. Looking up, he saw them for the first time. Tiny dots on the ceiling. Outlines of constellations. His mouth fell open. How could he have missed them before? Then he saw he was standing beneath Orion and smiled. At least his instincts were functioning. Maria deliberately moved away from the Pleiadian cluster and took her place beneath Antares. Marchant moved to the Vega triangle.
Spender looked over his shoulder. “No more procrastinating. Let’s get this curtain down.”
Marchant started to chant and Maria joined in, a sweet fifth above him. He frowned slightly, and she came down to his tone. Spender added his quavering voice.
The curtain responded with its now familiar sequence. Specks of gold appeared in the dark blue velvet, then started to swirl. The curtain started to change color, turning from the dark vibrant blue of an ocean to the color of cornflowers, then to a summer sky, and finally to a white tinged with blue. Without a hitch, as if it indeed were the time, all color faded from the curtain, and then with a swoosh, the energy field disappeared altogether.
Marchant’s mind focused like a diamond. He had finally gained access to the Hall of Records. He was performing his appointed task, the task he’d been born to do. But Spender was right in front of him, ready to steal it all.
“Ah,” Spender said, as if a jar he’d been trying to open had finally given way. He stepped forward into the circular room.
The room was smaller than Marchant had thought, probably thirteen feet from the center in all directions. He’d expected stale air and dust, but the room was fresher than the temple outside. He looked up at the ceiling, searching for vents, but found none. Instead a gold astrology wheel, more elaborate than the one from Dendara, captured his eyes. He traced Orion’s belt, the Seven Sisters in their lopsided cluster. On the floor beneath him lay a beautiful tiled mosaic depicting a star tetrahedron, the main Star of David outlined in lapis blue, a second one offset in light turquoise. He paused beneath the Orion constellation, suddenly light-headed.
His vision blurred, then doubled. He saw himself in the past, a tall Egyptian priest holding up his crystal. Five others stood in formation around him, each holding up a crystal, each chanting a sound that was an elaboration of a basic weave of the quantum fields making up this area. His heart was heavy with the duty they performed. Marchant stepped forward to stop it and the vision disappeared.
He blinked and saw Spender walking the perimeter of the room, his filthy fingers probing the pristine yellow sandstone. A wave of nausea washed through Marchant. He felt as if Spender were handling his privates. It took every ounce of self-discipline he possessed to stop himself from ripping the man away from the walls and throwing him to the ground.
Mueller stepped forward and Marchant whirled. “No.” He pointed his finger as if this alone would stop further invasion.
Spender looked up and chuckled. “Wait outside. Keep your men prepared.”
Mueller stood at the threshold of the sanctuary, his black boots poised to trample the opened flower of the most sacred temple on Earth.
“Now, Mr. Marchant.” Spender looked the two Crystal Keepers up and down. “How do we get past this vestibule?”
“Please, come back to the center.” Marchant felt an inexplicable urgency to get the man away from the walls.
Spender did as he asked. “Well?”
Marchant looked at Maria. “Where’s the door?”
Something in her eyes closed against him.
“Do you know?” he urged.
She shook her head.
“I must attune to the room.” Marchant closed his eyes and again the room opened to him. He was inside the bell of a delicate flower, walking in the heart of a nautilus spiral. The room was as fragile as an embryo, but with the same power of new life. He should have taken off his shoes.
He sent out a psychic probe and the room responded with a swirl of energy, like iridescence, suggesting he move to a different spot beneath the wheel. But he resisted. This might indeed open the wall. The chamber withdrew its suggestion and simply stood, pristine and radiant. Marchant fought back tears. There was nothing he could do to prevent the rape that was about to occur.
A wave of energy spiraled out from Maria. As it passed through him, he saw a jaguar in his mind. She was weaving a protection spell. He only hoped she was successful.
Marchant asked silently, Where is the door? And received back an impression of the ceiling. He’d keep Spender away from there.
“Mr. Marchant, you’re trying my patience.” Spender’s voice broke the threads of awareness he’d spun around the room.
Marchant opened his eyes.
The jaguar crouched, just out of vision.
Every cell in Marchant’s body revolted against what he knew he had to do next. Setting his teeth against the growing nausea, he said, “Let me examine the walls.”
Please forgive me, he sent, and stepped out of his place in the star formation on the floor. He was immediately dizzy, as if he’d moved from a high altitude to sea level in one step. The air was thicker, resistant. He walked clockwise around the outer perimeter of the star, then coming full circle, stepped to the outer wall, extending his senses into the limestone. Such beauty floated to the surface of his mind, the living walls of a well, a portal into other frequencies, other dimensions, themselves alive with harmonics of the one song that would open this space.
His own crystal was singing now, picking up one note and amplifying it, reaching down his arm into his heart, filling it, then brimming over and spilling down to the earth, sending a jet spurting through his head into the sky. Marchant shook himself like a wet dog to break his enthrallment to the stone. He stuck his left hand into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of red silk. He wrapped his crystal in the silk, cradled it inside a black velvet bag, and shoved it back into his pocket. The song receded to the background.
Marchant shook his head again, then began his probe. He expected only his initial impression to be confirmed, that the door to the Hall of Records was in the ceiling. Tomorrow he would find the lock and open it. He circled the room inch by inch, Maria and her jaguar watching his every move, Spender a step behind him. He went around completely, then motioned to Spender. “The door is directly across from this one, at the apex of the bottom pyramid.”
“Pyramid?” Spender growled.
Marchant pointed to the floor, then walked around the perimeter of the star to the tip. He winced when Spender walked directly across the star tetrahedron to the far wall.
“But it isn’t a physical door as we understand it. It manifests only at certain times.”
Spender laughed. “Come now, Mr. Marchant, I know you’re just trying to keep the treasures safe so you can come back and plunder them yourself. We recruited you because of your expertise. We need you to help us bring this Atlantean arsenal online, not just open the door to it. We must trust each other.”
“Then you’d better tell your messenger boy to treat me with more respect,” Marchant burst out.
Spender laughed again and patted his arm. “Has Karl been misbehaving? He’d better hope he hasn’t done anything to jeopardize our work here.” He shot a deadly look over his shoulder. “Now, how do we open this second door?”
Marchant mustered up an image of himself as a child confessing to his mother, and spoke from that place. “No one wants to open this door more than I do, Mr. Spender. There’s nothing more important to me than getting in there without the Rosicrucians and the damned Le Clair family telling everyone what to do. But we simply have to wait.”
“But I’m not willing to wait, Mr. Marchant.” Spender looked up at Mueller. “Bring the explosives.”
“No!” Maria lunged at Spender. The jaguar swept through him at the same instant.
Spender blinked and looked down at this chest.
“Explosives?” Marchant was on the edge of panic. “That is impossible.”
“I assure you it is quite possible.” Spender said.
“I have to agree with Mr. Marchant.”
All heads turned to this new voice. A man stood in the entrance to the small chamber, tall and straight, obviously used to command. He was dressed all in black, and the only color to him was a shock of silver hair that he’d pulled back in a ponytail. The accent was British, upper class.
“Mr. Cagliostro.” Spender walked across the room diagonally, causing Marchant to wince again, and offered to shake hands.
Alexander Cagliostro? Marchant looked at the man carefully. No, it couldn’t be.
Cagliostro just looked at Spender’s extended hand. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“Opening the Hall of Records, as instructed.” Spender stood straighter, like a soldier reporting in.
“With explosives? Looks like I got here just in time.” He held out his hand, palm up. “The crystals.”
Spender opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He handed Michael’s crystal to Cagliostro, then turned and snapped at Marchant, “You heard him. Give the man your crystal.”
“This stone is keyed to me. No one else can—”
“Now.” Spender gestured toward Mueller.
To prevent more people invading the sanctuary, Marchant handed his crystal to Spender without another word. He would have preferred to give him his heart. Maria did the same. Spender gave the stones to Cagliostro and stepped back.
“These two may go.” Cagliostro pointed to Marchant and Maria.
“Karl—” Spender began his order.
“Karl needs to stay.”
Spender bit his lip. “You two. Take the woman back to the compound. You,” he pointed to the jeep driver, “take Marchant back to the hotel.”
“Remember to blindfold them both,” Mueller said, as he tied Maria’s hands behind her back.
Marchant and Maria were led away.
Mueller squared his shoulders and schooled his face not to show the satisfaction he felt. Cagliostro would finally get this operation back on track.
“I’ve checked the room. There’s no obvious door, but Marchant thought it would be here.”
“Be silent.” Cagliostro removed his shoes, then took the three crystals in his right hand and walked around the small room clockwise. When he realized Spender was still there, he frowned and pointed at the door.
Spender got out of his way.
He walked around a second time, then spiraled his way into the center, where he sat in perfect lotus position and closed his eyes. He sat for a long time.
Mueller shifted his weight as silently as possible. Spender stared at Cagliostro. Finally, the man opened his eyes. “We’ll have to wait for the alignment. Did you actually think you could open the Hall of Records with force, Mr. Spender?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but got up in one fluid movement.
Martial arts, Mueller thought. He’s studied at least one form. Not only was this man deadly with his mind, he could probably fight physically as well. He felt more respect for Cagliostro.
As soon as Cagliostro left the small room, the blue energy field snapped back into place with a swoosh. Without so much as a glance at the sound behind him, Cagliostro collected his shoes, walked down the six steps of the inner temple, and stood in front of the Horus statue. Spender and Mueller followed.
“Now, Mr. Mueller. Is everything arranged?”
“Yes, sir.” Mueller snapped to attention. “We have operatives in place to take out the heads of the Families after we secure this site.”
“The story to discredit the Le Clairs?” He glanced at Spender.
“Ready to be released,” he said.
“And you’re certain this is the way into the Hall of Records?” Cagliostro raised an eyebrow at Spender.
“There’s no other place. We’ve combed the plateau for four decades. Mapped every nook and cranny. This is the place, all right.”
“You’d better be right.” He walked out of the temple without another word.
Mueller was still wondering how he’d found it.
☥☥☥
The next morning, Anne woke like a deep-sea diver, swimming slowly to the surface. On the way up, she met the memory of Thomas’s death and almost turned back, but she knew she had to keep going. When she broke the surface, the rest flooded in around her—Maria’s disappearance, the theft and misuse of Michael’s crystal, the need to deceive Marchant, their mission to reopen the Hall of Records.
They still didn’t know exactly what this entailed. Maria had insisted they were saving the world from eternal darkness, that if the return to the light was stopped, the planet would be destroyed by highly advanced alien civilizations. As outlandish as this sounded, Anne couldn’t shake the story. Something about it rang true, especially after her memory of the cat planet during the initiation in the Great Pyramid. She tried to focus on Thomas’s last words to her there, but the odds seemed insurmountable.
Michael crawled back into bed beside her, his breath smelling of mint toothpaste.
“I feel so lost without him,” she whispered.
Michael kissed her forehead. “We just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, for Thomas.”
“I wish you’d known him.”
“I did know him, sweetie.”
Anne turned over and looked up into Michael’s brown eyes. “Really?”
“My group met with him several times. He knew more about ancient metaphysical societies than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I used to tease him unmercifully. I said at least the people who were nuts over Dungeons and Dragons knew they were playing a game. What did I call it, his obsolete research? Now my life depends on it.”
“He had the strongest sense of honor I’ve ever seen, like it was an integral part of him.”
Anne kissed Michael’s rough cheek. “That was my brother. Is,” she said firmly. “He seemed certain we were going to succeed, but I just don’t know how, with two crystals gone and the one he was searching for permanently out of reach.”
“We don’t know that.”
“What?”
“The last crystal may turn up yet.”
You’re like him, you know. The eternal optimist, no matter the stakes.”
“That’s one of the greatest compliments you could ever pay me.”
“It’s true.” Anne lay back on the pillow. “So, Mr. Levy, what should we do now?”
“Take a shower.”
Once they were up and dressed, Arnold called. “May I come over? There re some new developments in Maria’s kidnapping.”
“Please do,” Anne said.
As soon as she hung up the phone, Arnold gave a warning knock on the door between the two adjoining suites, then came in and took a seat on the sofa in the living room. “We searched Maria’s room thoroughly.”
“Any clues?” Anne asked.
“One fingerprint.”
“You can take fingerprints?” Michael asked.
Arnold nodded. “I found a match in the army’s database.” He laid a file on the coffee table.
“The army? How did you get access?” Michael asked.
“We have connections with the Secret Service. The print belongs to an Adam Ardsen, born in Detroit, Michigan. This is the really interesting part. He died four years ago.”
Anne leaned forward. “He what?”
“Died.”
“But—” Anne frowned. “So what does this mean?”
“It means,” Arnold patted the file in front of him, “this man works for the shadow government.”
Anne’s cell phone rang. “Now what?” The screen read “No data sent.” She answered it.
“Annie. Thank God you’re all right.”
“Mother,” Anne’s eyes filled with tears again, but she blinked them back. “How are you?”
“My baby. They’ve killed my baby, Annie. First my brother, then my sister, and now my baby.”
“I know.”
Katherine sobbed into the phone and Anne allowed her own tears to fall, finding strength in expressing her own grief.
When her mother’s storm of emotion subsided, Anne asked, “What’s happening there? Do you know anything more?”
“I only know one thing. It’s open season on Le Clairs and I want you home.”
Anne closed her eyes. The last thing she needed was a fight. “Are they going to be able to recover—” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“We’ll know in twenty-four hours. Did you hear me?”
“I heard you.”
“Well? Do I have to come get you?”
Anne laughed. Michael and Arnold both jerked their heads up to stare at her. She shrugged. “What can I say? You know I have a job to do here.”
“Anne Morgan Le Clair Greene, if you don’t get back here to your grandmother’s estate where we can protect you—” Katherine’s voice choked. “Please, Annie.”
“I can’t argue with you. I just can’t.” She hesitated, then said, “I saw him, Mother.”
“Who?”
“Thomas.”
Katherine was silent for a moment, then in a low voice she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I saw him in the Great Pyramid during our initiation. He was with Aunt Cynthia. He was a brilliant white light. He told me it was worth the sacrifice.”
Katherine cried quietly.
“Mother, I have to do this. Otherwise what are all these deaths for?”
“They’re for nothing, that’s what. For old stories. For—”
Anne interrupted her. “You’re just trying to convince yourself. You don’t really believe it.”
Katherine was silent again.
“I’m sorry, Mother, but you know in your heart what I’m saying is true.”
“Let’s not fight. I just don’t want to lose all my children.”
“You won’t. I promise.”
“You’d better be right.”
Anne laughed through her tears. “I promise. I swear on Thomas’s memory.”
“I’ll see you soon then.” Katherine hung up.
Bob walked into the suite from the adjoining one. “There’s an e-mail for you, Anne.” He handed her a printout.
Anne,
I’m coming immediately. Do not leave the hotel under any circumstances until I arrive.
Roger Abernathy
“Everybody’s telling me what to do.” She let the page slip onto the floor. Michael picked it up and read it.
“I can’t say I disagree with him.”
“Then who is going to go with Marchant? You? What are you going to say to him? ‘The Le Clairs won’t let my girlfriend out of her room, so I’m going in her place.’ I’m supposed to be interested in him, remember?”
“I remember,” Michael said quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
“Well, we took a shower. Now what do we do?”
Michael smiled down at her. “Let’s see what Tahir has uncovered.”
“He’ll have to come here.” Arnold looked up from his file. “I’m under orders.”
Anne threw her hands up into the air. “Fine, just fine and dandy.”
“I’ll go see if he’s with the conference. I may have to stay. This morning is the speakers’ panel. Everyone is expected to participate.”
Anne looked at Arnold. “Can I go?”
He just shook his head.
“I’ll go find Tahir,” Michael said. “Or Shani. They may have news.”
Arnold nodded. “Bob is going back over Maria’s room just in case we missed anything.” He turned to Anne. “I’ll be next door if you need me.”
While they were gone, Anne paced up and down the length of the suite, pausing occasionally to look out the windows at the sun climbing the pyramids. Her stomach ached and she finally realized it was hunger. She ordered room service and sat to meditate before it was delivered, but she found no peace, only pictures of Thomas playing in her mind like a family movie.
She got up from meditation and switched on CNN. On the television screen, different images of Thomas played. His life as New York’s most eligible bachelor. His affair with Nina Young, the famous actress. Katherine had approved of her. His public life as a scholar. Then it all started, the cover story about his reckless driving and piloting, how he often flew the family jet himself, about the bad weather that day. A supposed family friend confessed her worries over Thomas’s recklessness in the air. Anne knew this particular woman would say anything to be associated with Thomas, even the government’s lies. She switched off the set. There would be time for nostalgia later. Or not. Then it wouldn’t matter. She’d be with him.
Breakfast arrived, but after a few bites, she lost her appetite and sat sipping tea, simply waiting. What was she going to do if Arnold refused to allow her to go with Marchant tonight? She’d never been successful at giving him the slip. If Tahir had been able to find a way into the room, then it would be all right. If not, there was no choice. Perhaps Dr. Abernathy would arrive by then and realize she had to go. Or she could slip Arnold one of his own sedatives. No, she couldn’t do that to Arnold. He’d see reason.
Michael came back around lunchtime with Tahir and Shani, whose faces were sad. Tahir leaned across the coffee table and took her hand. “We are sorry to hear about your brother. He was a wonderful man.”
Shani nodded.
“That’s right. You met him, too.”
“Yes, I enjoyed our time together. Michael shared your vision of him,” Tahir said.
“I hope that was okay,” Michael said.
“Of course,” Anne said. “What do you think it means?”
“That we will succeed. What choice do we have?”
Anne looked into Tahir’s strong face and drew courage. “None.”
He nodded and sat back on the sofa, his gaze taking in the other three. “I have a general idea where the temple is located, but these shadow government soldiers have the villagers scared for their lives.”
“What do you mean?” Arnold asked.
“It seems they killed one worker already. He talked about what was happening on the site and his story ended up on a New Age website. He was dead within twenty-four hours. Found in the garbage dump.”
“And the people are certain he was killed because of the story?” Arnold asked.
“No doubt. A few days later when a few other workers had been discussing this man’s death and what he’d said, a gang of thugs rousted them out of their homes in the middle of the night, took then out into the desert, and beat them. They left them there to crawl back home. After that, nobody was willing to talk.”
“Even to him,” Shani said.
Arnold frowned, not understanding.
“He is the village elder,” she said as if this should explain everything. In response to the blank looks around her, she continued. “The head of the village. He is consulted in most matters. To refuse to give him important information—this has never happened before.”
“Instead they advised me to live to fight another day.”
“And what if there isn’t another day?” Anne asked rhetorically.
“This is a problem,” Michael said. “Did you learn enough to find the entrance?”
“I have a good idea where it is, but the main entrance seems to be heavily guarded. From my early days of crawling around in tunnels, I have an idea how to sneak in. I want Michael to come with me.”
“Tonight?” Michael asked.
“Yes.” Tahir turned to Arnold and Bob. “Will one of you come along for protection?”
Arnold looked at Anne. “Bob can stay here with Anne. I’ll go.”
“But what about Paul Marchant? We’ve worked hard to get him to trust me and now he’s planning to lead me into the temple.”
“Haven’t you been listening? The place is crawling with shadow forces,” Arnold said.
“Paul says he can get us in alone.”
“You trust him?”
Anne hesitated. “No, but—”
“But?” Arnold raised his eyebrows.
“What if they can’t find it? We have to know. The success of the mission depends on it.”
“The success of the mission depends on you staying alive.” Arnold narrowed his eyes.
Anne opened her mouth to protest, but Tahir cut in. “What if you go with her? You and Bob?”
“Then who protects Michael?” Anne asked. “And you?” she added as an afterthought.
Tahir smiled. “I will keep him alive.”
Anne felt the red creeping into her face. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—”
“No need to apologize.” Tahir dismissed her embarrassment with a wave of his hand.
“I can’t guarantee her safety down there.” Arnold shook his head. “I don’t know the terrain, how many guards they have posted, their training—”
“If we fail, I might as well be dead,” Anne said.
“How do you know that? You don’t really know what this Hall of Records consists of. You don’t know exactly what you’re supposed to do. How can I sanction you taking such a risk for so many unknowns? My job is to protect the family.”
Anne stood up. “My family exists to perform this mission. This mission is more important than my life, than the lives of my whole family, the lives of everyone in this room.”
Arnold opened his mouth to object, but Anne overrode him. “Why does my family exist at all? I’ll tell you why. To pass down this crystal.” She held the stone up in the air. “My family has endured exile, persecution, torture, and death to keep this crystal safe. For five thousand years. We’ve succeeded, and the time has come to use it. And you’re trying to tell me that, after all that, when the last piece of the puzzle is within reach, I’m supposed to sit in my room just because I might get hurt or killed?”
Arnold squared his shoulders. “If you’re dead, how are you supposed to do your job?”
Anne softened her voice. “They won’t kill me, Arnold. They need me to open the Hall of Records.”
Arnold looked around at the others. “What am I supposed to do? These Le Clairs could talk a bunch of cats into swimming the English Channel.”
Michael chuckled. “You have my sympathy.”
Arnold grinned wickedly. “You may need mine later.”
Michael looked up at Anne. “I sincerely hope so.”